


The Gift of the Techno-Magi

by Rebcake



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: Christmas, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-21
Updated: 2010-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebcake/pseuds/Rebcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joel Mynor, of “Bouncy the Rat” fame, is coming to terms with the death of his wife when he meets someone who knew things about her that he never would have guessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift of the Techno-Magi

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **shapinglight** for her quick Brit check!

Joel Mynor had more or less got used to being a rich widower. He still missed Rebecca like some awful aching-thing, especially on nights like tonight when he was out with a leggy VP of Marketing, making nice with the stockholders. It was definitely not the season to be sorrowful, and objectively speaking he had very little to complain about. But if he’d had Rebecca by his side, he’d have known that when he got home he could have uttered whole paragraphs of amusing complaints about silly humans at company Christmas parties. She would have laughed, told him he was awful, and kissed him with champagne on her breath. He might or might not have gotten lucky, depending on whether she felt too self-conscious about the caviar stuck between her teeth, but it would have been a perfect evening, either way. They all were, in hindsight.

As it was, he could mingle with the many beautiful women — some of whom had excellent minds — knowing none of them were dim enough to be unaware of his net worth. He could slap the backs of the men, pretending not to notice which ones wondered if they could duplicate his success, and which just wished they had his facility for talking to “girls” without dissolving in a flop sweat. It wasn’t really a bad life, and all indicators were that it would only get better. Especially now that Richard from Acquisitions approached with the very handsome woman that Joel had noticed earlier in the evening.

“Adelle, this is Joel Mynor, the founder of the feast and a great guy.” Adelle inclined her head with a small smile. “Joel, I’d like you to meet Adelle DeWitt. She’s with the Rossum Corporation, but don’t let that scare you off.”

“Ms. DeWitt. I hope you’re enjoying yourself in spite of all the Ratketeers bouncing around the place tonight.”

“Ouch,” said Richard, clutching a hand to his chest. “I’ll just hie myself off to the cheese table, if that’s the way you’re going to be. Have fun, kids.” He slipped back into the crowd with a wink.

“It’s lovely,” said Adelle, indicating the room with a slight movement of her eyebrow.

Hmmm. Beautiful, British, subtle. Joel’s evening was looking considerably more interesting. Right up until she spoke again. “I must admit I was hoping to speak to you tonight.” Ah. Not so subtle then.

“I can tell you right now that I have no problem giving up the secrets of Bouncy the Rat’s level 12 lab maze to such a charming visitor, but I’d rather not talk business. With all the merry-making, I might easily be convinced to underwrite a shipment of myrrh to Bethlehem after a couple more of these.” He wiggled his glass in explanation.

She gave him a pained smile. “Not business, exactly. I had the honor of meeting your wife last year, and I wanted to tell you what an exceptional woman I found her to be. It’s a very great tragedy that she was taken so soon.”

“You…met my wife?” Adelle nodded. He wondered at how quickly the rest of the conversations around him dulled to white noise.

“Really? That’s, uh, unusual. She didn’t exactly move in corporate circles.”

“Actually, I met her through her nursing work. As you may be aware, Rossum is involved in various sorts of medical scanning research. She had been helping us to find viable candidates for the final testing stages of our latest technology. There was a substantial financial incentive for participants, and very little risk, so she elected to take part herself.”

“Are you telling me that Rebecca was selling herself for medical experiments?” Joel had known that he was a failure as a provider, but this felt like an almost physical blow.

“Please, don’t think that, Mr. Mynor. She was only involved as a control subject. We merely made some recordings of her. Very complete recordings, it’s true, but entirely non-invasive. She was never in any danger.”

“But, she never said…”

“I believe she meant to use the funds to surprise you — with a gift for your anniversary, perhaps? She was a wonderful, giving woman. It was clear to all of us who worked with her that she loved you very much, Mr. Mynor. I am terribly sorry for your loss.”

He thanked her absently. Joel supposed it was possible. He hadn’t examined the accounts frozen by probate, even after they were released to him. He wouldn’t have noticed anything below six figures, probably. God, had he really become so sanguine?

“As I said, we have some recordings of her, some video interviews and other things. Generally, all of our data is strictly confidential, but in your case I’d be willing to make an exception on compassionate grounds. Do drop by my office if you'd like me to arrange a private viewing for you.”

Joel heard himself agreeing, setting a date during the week between Christmas and the New Year. It was one of those out-of-body experiences people talked about, but it seemed as if something essential was floating away for good as he accepted her elegant business card.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that this unexpected gift came at the cost of his soul.

 _FIN_   



End file.
